


Soft Rains

by LostyK



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt Deceit | Janus Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Dark Sides - Freeform, Set pre-pof, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostyK/pseuds/LostyK
Summary: Thomas doesn’t seem to believe him, though, because he sighs. “Do you really think I’d be okay with this?”Janus shrugs. “You seem to think everything I do is bad.”“That doesn’t mean I want youhurt. I want you to be okay.”In order to escape from another dark side, Janus hides in the one place they can't follow - Thomas's apartment.He doesn't expect Thomas to actually care about what happened to him.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Thomas Sanders
Comments: 56
Kudos: 437
Collections: TS Hurt Comfort To Soothe The Soul





	Soft Rains

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest, this is pretty much just an excuse to write Janus whump.
> 
> All the violence happens right before the story begins, but it's talked about throughout the fic.
> 
> Title comes from the poem "There Shall Come Soft Rains" by Sara Teasdale. It has absolutely nothing to do with this fic, I just think it's neat.

Janus presses himself against the wall of the coat closet as if he’ll be able to disappear into it. He can hear footsteps in the corridor, the sound of doors being thrown open as Wrath looks for him. He closes his one good eye and tries to focus on his breathing, but his ribs burn with every inhale. Everything hurts. He thinks his ribs might be broken, and the human side of his face is so swollen from the beating that he can’t see out of that eye. The snake side stings in the places where his scales were cut away. He presses a hand to his right shoulder, trying to stem the sluggish bleeding.

“Here, snakey snakey,” Wrath sing-songs and Janus curls further into himself. “Come out now and I won’t break your legs.”

He should do what Wrath says. There’s nowhere for him to hide, no chance of escape. But Remus will be back from the imagination soon. All he has to do is open the closet door, maybe Wrath will go easy on him. He just needs to hold out a little longer-

But he won’t. He’s not brave, or noble, or self-sacrificing, not like the light sides. If he goes back then Wrath will just keep hurting him and he will break and let the others out, let Thomas see _all_ the parts of him that he’d tried to hide. And then it won’t matter what Wrath decides to do with him, not when they have a foothold on Thomas’s mind.

The footsteps move down the corridor. How long until Wrath throws the cupboard door open? He could try to run, try to get to the imagination. He might even make it. But even if he does, the imagination is large, and filled with deadly beast and pitfalls.

There’s the light side, but that would just prolong the inevitable. Virgil would probably be glad for the opportunity to throw Janus back to the wolves.

There’s only one other place he could go to, and that’s Thomas’s apartment in the real world, which-

Which might work.

Wrath won’t be able to follow him there, not while Thomas doesn’t know about him. Of course, Thomas wouldn’t want _Deceit_ around either, but the light sides go there all the time. Thomas would let one of them stay.

There’s no way for him to hide his injuries, so he picks the side most likely to get hurt and shifts.

A wave of pain crashes through him as his body changes. He cries out before he can stop himself. He freezes, panting from the pain, as the footsteps grow closer. He has to go now.

He tries to sink out but his body fails him and he collapses, shaking.

“Knock, knock,” Wrath calls.

Janus grits his teeth and gathers all the strength he has left. He pushes away the pain, pushes away the fear. The only thing that matters now is appearing in the real world.

He collapses again, and he sobs because it doesn’t matter now, nothing matters. His fingers bunch up in the carpet.

Wait- carpet?

He forces his head up, and blinks away the stars in his vision. He lets out a sob of relief once his vision clears because he’s not in the cupboard anymore, not in the dark side. He’s on the floor of Thomas’s house, in front of the TV where Roman usually stands.

“Roman!”

Janus blinks. Thomas is hovering a few feet away, looking uncertain. Behind him, he can see his discarded laptop on the sofa.

“Ah, Thomas,” Janus says, trying to Roman’s voice. Stopping it from cracking is beyond him now. “I may be in need of assistance.”

“I think we’re way past _may_ ,” Thomas says. “What happened?”

He should have seen the question coming, should have prepared an answer, but there was no time and it’s too late now. He’ll just have to wing it.

“That Dragon Witch,” he says. “I, uh, got into a fight with her.” He gives Thomas a rueful smirk. “It did not go in my favour.”

Thomas takes another step forward, and then stops, eyes narrowing. Janus’s heart stutters.

“You and the Dragon Witch have a truce,” Thomas says.

Crap.

“Well, clearly she broke it,” Deceit says.

 _Please believe it. Please don’t ask any more questions_.

“And that’s Roman’s old costume.”

Janus blinks and looks down at himself. Sure enough, he must not have been careful enough when he put on the disguise. “It’s laundry day?”

Thomas shakes his head and sits down on the couch. “What do you want, Deceit?”

He drops the disguise, and his muscles shake from the relief of it. He stays down, stares at Thomas’s carpet. He doesn’t want to see Thomas’s reaction to his current state.

“You can get up now,” Thomas adds, and Deceit flinches at the coldness in his tone.

He pushes himself up with his arms. Maybe if he goes along with it, Thomas will listen to him, and he’ll be allowed to stay. But as soon as he puts any weight on his legs, he collapses back to the floor.

“Deceit?” Thomas sounds strange now.

Janus doesn’t answer, just glares at the floor. His whole body is shaking, and he doesn’t understand why he can’t just _do this_. There’s nothing wrong with his _legs_.

“You- you’re actually hurt.”

Janus looks up, frowning, because of course he is, why does Thomas sound so surprised, but before he can say anything Thomas is _right there_ , one hand gently touching his good shoulder.

Janus flinches back, tries to raise his arms to protect himself.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Thomas leans back, raising his hands so that Janus can see them. “What happened to you?”

“You- you don’t want to know,” Janus answers.

“I’m pretty sure I do, actually.” Thomas shakes his head. “Do you think you cans stand if I help you?”

He eyes Thomas warily (what is he thinking, why does he want him to stand?) before he nods. Thomas carefully loops one arm under around him.

He doesn’t stand so much as let Thomas pull him up. Once he’s on his feet, Thomas tries to let go and he staggers, grabs Thomas’s arm to steady himself before he can think better of it. The arm returns around his back, another touching his side, supporting him.

“Okay,” Thomas soothes. “You’re doing really good. We just need to make it to the couch. Come on.”

With Thomas’s help, he’s able to stagger the few feet over to the couch. Thomas lowers him onto it gently.

“Stay here,” he says, as if Janus would be able to stand even if he wants to. “I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s _gone_.

Janus misses him immediately. With Thomas around, Janus had felt safe, irrational as that feeling might be. But now he’s gone and there’s no one to stop Wrath. Nothing to stop him dragging Janus back to the dark side, and he won’t be able to escape a second time, they’ll break his legs so he can’t run and then cut off his scales one by one, just like they’d threatened.

Someone enters the room, and Janus shrinks back, curls in on himself like if he’s small enough and still enough no one can see him.

The person comes closer. He chokes out a sob, and now they know that he’s scared, that he’s _weak_.

“Deceit?” they ask.

He can’t look at them, can’t see if they’re amused or disgusted by his weakness. Can’t bear any clues that looking might give him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he knows useless. “I- I won’t try to run again, I promise. _Please_.”

It’s a lie. And even if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t believe him. They’ll just keep hurting him and they won’t stop. They’re never going to stop.

“Deceit,” the voice sounds strangled and Janus goes still, waiting for the blows to start. “That’s- I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

Janus shakes his head. They’re lying, they have to be, but he can’t sense the lie, can’t smell it on the air. Something must be wrong with him, with his senses, and now he’s lost one of the few defences he had less.

“Deceit, look at me.”

He doesn’t want to, but it’s an order, and not obeying will just make things worse. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifts his head from his arms.

Brown eyes, looking back at him. Brown hair, messy from running his hands through it. A Steven Universe t-shirt, because it’s comfortable and he doesn’t plan on going out today.

“Thomas,” Janus gasps.

Thomas smiles, though his eyes are watery. “Hey. You’re _safe_ , okay? Whatever happened- it’s not going to happen to you again.”

Janus shakes his head. “Making promises you don’t intend to keep?” he _tsks_. “Patton would be so disappointed.”

“I mean it,” Thomas says firmly. “They’re not going to touch you.”

It’s the truth, but that doesn’t make any _sense_.

“ _Why_?” Janus breaks out. “Why would you?”

Thomas hates him, thinks he needs to be locked away. Why be so upset when someone has finally done what Thomas has always wanted.

“What do you mean _why_?” Thomas asks. “Look at you!”

Janus shrinks in on himself. “I’m aware of what I look like,” he hisses.

Thomas just shakes his head. “Who did this?”

Janus looks away and doesn’t answer.

“Deceit, please,” Thomas begs. “I- I want to help.”

Janus says nothing. Let Thomas get mad and yell or hit him or refuse to help until Janus answers. He’s doing this _for Thomas_ , to keep hidden what needs to be shut away so it can’t ruin Thomas’ life. He just needs to keep Thomas safe, keep him protected. As long as he can do that, nothing else matters.

“Okay,” Thomas says, sounding tired. “If- if you’re not ready to tell me yet, that’s okay.”

Janus looks up suspiciously. The lie tastes over-sweet on the air – Thomas _isn’t_ okay with him not saying anything. But he doesn’t look mad- instead he just presses something cold into Janus’ good hand. He looks down at it- an ice pack. He glances back at Thomas, confused, but Thomas is fiddling with something he has with him – a first aid kit. Janus hadn’t even noticed it was there.

Warily, Janus lifts the icepack to his eye. The cold soothes his bruises, quietens the fiery pain.

“I want to look at your injuries,” Thomas says. “Is that okay?”

Janus nods warily.

Thomas pulls out Band-Aids, a roll of gauze and a brown bottle. He hesitates. “I’m going to have to touch you.”

Of course he does. Still, Janus shudders at the thought of someone getting close, of _touching_ where he’s already injured, and what if this is all a trick, what if Thomas wants Janus to let his guard down so he can hurt him even worse?

“Deceit?” Thomas prompts quietly.

“What- what will you do?” Janus asks.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Thomas runs a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t exactly in that first aid course I took. I guess- those cuts on your face need cleaning. Uh, are you hurt anywhere else?”

Janus swallows, digs his nails into the palm of his hands and uses the sensation to keep himself _here_ , to stop himself from slipping back to that room. “Shoulder’s bleeding. Broke my ribs, I think.”

Thomas nods, grimacing. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. I’ll need to clean and bandage your shoulder, then.” He holds up the bottle. “The antiseptic is going to _hurt_.”

“I’ve almost certainly had worse,” Janus says drily, and Thomas looks as if he’s just been slapped. Okay, so maybe his humour isn’t appreciated in this situation. “Just do it.”

Thomas nods. “I’m going to start with your scales.”

He waits, and when Janus doesn’t say anything he moves forward. Janus forces himself not to flinch back when Thomas’s hands move towards his face. It’s fine. Thomas won’t hurt him, even if he doesn’t like him much.

Thomas is right about the antiseptic, but it’s still better than when Wrath had slid the knife under each sale and _twisted_ until they come loose.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Thomas says as he dabs at the cuts, a soothing mantra that Janus almost believes.

It doesn’t take long to clean them, Wrath had only cut off a couple- he’d gone slow, whispered threats in his ear between each one, giving Janus a chance to give in but all he’d done was shake his head and cry. Wrath had gone to get something else, something that word hurt even worse, and Janus had been able to crawl out of the room, had managed to push himself to his feet and stagger into the closet, even as Wrath had yelled because he’d noticed Janus was gone.

“Will they grow back?” Thomas asks, pulling Janus back to the present.

He touches the spots, even if it makes his shoulder scream in protest. Thomas had covered the wounds with Band-Aids while Janus had been lost in the past.

He nods in answer to the question. It’s a lie, Janus has no idea what will happen, but Thomas looks distressed enough. Let him believe that everything will turn out alright, like they do in Roman’s stories.

“Okay,” Thomas says. “That’s your face done. I should look at your shoulder now.”

Janus waits, but Thomas makes no move forward.

“You, uh, you need to—.” he gestures at his own chest.

Janus blinks, confused, until he figures out that Thomas is asking him to take off his shirt. His good hand is still holding the icepack so he summons two more to fumble with the clasps of his coat. It takes far too long – his hands won’t stop _shaking_ – but he’s finally able to let it drop off his shoulders.

He reaches for his shirt next, and then hesitates. What will happen if he refuses? Will Thomas let the matter drop? Will he keep pressing? Or will he not care what Janus wants, will he hold him down and force his clothes off him with Janus too weak to stop him?

Thomas touches his right hand, curled uselessly in his lap. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “There’s no rush. You can take your time.”

Just like that, Janus can breathe again. He has to let his extra arms disappear to take the shirt off, leaving him one handed. Getting his left arm out if easy enough, but the fabric sticks to the blood coating his right shoulder, and he winces in pain as he peels it away. Thomas hovers nearby, arms just above Janus’ shoulder, but Janus doesn’t give him the opportunity to step in. He lets the shirt drop to the floor. It’s probably ruined now, anyway.

Thomas sucks in a choked, startled breath when Janus straightens. Whether it’s at the scales that run down his abdomen, or the mottled bruises that cover his ribs, Janus can’t tell.

“Fuck,” Thomas says wetly. “Deceit, what-?” he cuts himself off. “Okay. Okay. Uh, I’m going to clean and bandage your shoulder now. I don’t think I’m meant to do anything for your ribs except- fuck, pain killers. I can’t believe I didn’t offer them earlier.” He digs around the first aid kit. “Uh, I only have Tylenol. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Janus says.

Thomas hands him a couple of pills and fetches a glass of water. Janus takes them without a word.

“Okay, shoulder now.”

He holds up the antiseptic and bandages, and Janus nods, once. He closes his eyes as Thomas wipes at the wound. The knife didn’t go all the way through, thank God, but it’s still deep. The sting of the antiseptic brings tears to his eyes.

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Thomas says carefully, setting of every one of Janus’ alarm bells. “But I’d really like to know what happened.”

Janus doesn’t bother to open his eyes. “Would you?”

“Of course! Deceit, I want to _help_.”

For a moment, Janus believes him, almost enough to say _don’t call me Deceit. Call me Janus, my name is Janus_ , because he’s already bleeding, already stripped bare, so what’s one more defence?

But then the part of him that is _self-preservation_ wakes up, and he sneers instead. “And if it was one of your precious Light sides? What then?”

He watches as Thomas reel back, looking horrified. “I don’t, I- Was it them?”

Janus hesitates, and then takes pity on Thomas. “No, it wasn’t. But my point still stands: you shouldn’t make promises so easily.”

“In this case, I think I should,” Thomas says. “You were _tortured_.”

Janus flinches. That’s not- it wasn’t- it wasn’t _torture_. It was just pain.

(Denial’s always been what he’s best at)

“And you know all the facts? What if I deserved it? I could be tricking you this entire time.”

“The facts are that _you were tortured_ ,” Thomas repeats, eyes wide. He’s crying, something he’s been doing off and on the whole time. “You- you know this was wrong, right? Whatever happened, doing this to you was _wrong_.”

He knows. It had been just one more reason to refuse Wrath, because if that was how he got what he wanted, Janus had no desire to let him influence Thomas.

Thomas doesn’t seem to believe him, though, because he sighs. “Do you really think I’d be okay with this?”

Janus shrugs. “You seem to think everything I do is bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you _hurt_. I want you to be okay.”

Anger flares up inside him. “Well maybe then you shouldn’t have _ignored_ me!”

Thomas gapes, and Janus immediately regrets what he said.

“What do you mean?” Thomas asks.

Janus curls in on himself. He should be smarter than this, should me more controlled that to just blurt out the first thought that crosses his mind. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What does me ignoring you have to do with- with what happened?”

Janus hesitates. If he answers, it might upset Thomas more. Might make Thomas think he’s lying, or that this whole thing is a setup to get Thomas’ attention. But if he doesn’t…

“Our strength is linked to our functions,” Janus says. “The sides that you acknowledge, that you use, are stronger. The ones that you repress are weaker.” He tilts his head back so he doesn’t have to look at Thomas. “My purview is lies and denial, the things you hide from others, and the things you hide from yourself. You’ve been a lot more honest lately.”

“So you weren’t strong enough to fight them off,” Thomas finishes, sounding horrified.

Janus nods, gritting his teeth tight together. He shouldn’t have spoken, hadn’t _wanted_ to reveal this to Thomas.

Perhaps he can pretend that this is all part of a plan, that he’s showing his weakness for a reason. _Look what you’ve done to me, wouldn’t it be so much better if you listene_ d?

“Fuck,” Thomas says. “Deceit, I- I’m sorry.”

“It’s not… entirely your fault,” Janus says.

“Still, if I’d have known…” Thomas doesn’t finish the thought, which is good. That is one thing Janus would not be able to stand being lied to about.

Janus closes his eyes. Thomas has finished helping him, but he hasn’t told him to leave yet, and Janus intends to take full advantage of whatever guilt or pity Thomas is feeling. Perhaps he can get Thomas to let him stay. Or, if not, perhaps he can at least ask Thomas to summon Remus.

“What are you going to do?” Thomas asks.

He doesn’t know. “Remus is in the imagination. I’ll be safe once he gets back.”

“And until then?” Thomas asks.

Janus doesn’t answer.

Thomas moves, and Janus opens his eye, but all Thomas does is sit on the sofa, leaving as much space between him and Janus as he can. Janus watches him for a moment, but when Thomas doesn’t make any more movements, he closes his eye again.

Exhaustion is beginning to crash down on him. It seems his body has finally decided to stop pumping out adrenaline. Perhaps it’s responding to Thomas’ presence. Perhaps it has just stopped caring.

“The sky is green,” Thomas says out of nowhere, and Janus opens one eye to give Thomas an incredulous look.

“What-,” he begins to say.

“The sky is green, the grass is blue. Uh, my name isn’t Thomas Sanders.”

Lies. Small ones, the ones that taste like cough medicine, ones no one would believe. But then, there’s no one around _to_ believe them.

“Are you seriously trying to-?”

“Is it working?” Thomas asks.

Janus hesitates. The fire that had consumed most of his body has lessened to smouldering pain. He reaches up and touches his face. It feels less swollen, now.

“It… _is_.” He hadn’t expected something as simple as that to work.

Thomas nods, and keeps going. “Okay, uh, today isn’t Wednesday, I hate Disney, uh, if you swallow an apple seed a tree will grow in your stomach.”

Janus closes his eyes. He still feels tired, still doesn’t know what he’ll do when he wakes up. But he’s safe, and his pain is fading, and the sound of Thomas’ voice is soothing.

“I don’t care about you,” Thomas says. It tastes sweet.

And, because Janus knows that he’s safe, he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! I'm also on tumblr: sparrow-flies-south


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